


Olives

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Italy Unpacked (TV) RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, Hand Feeding, Love, M/M, Reflection, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-13 11:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18468166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: A ficlet which focuses on the connection between Giorgio and Andrew's relationship - both their on-screen and romantic relationship - and olives, of all things. As Giorgio flirtatiously pops olives into Andrew's mouth, the historian sits back and ponders this.





	Olives

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is a work of fiction involving real people written by myself - it is a completely made-up fantasy and is in no way intended to cause offence.

Andrew allowed himself to be fed by Giorgio's hand, as he had done many times; if truth be told, he loved _everything_ about it - from the excitement of not truly knowing what was to come - the momentary loss of control and _being_ controlled - being _spoiled_ , doted on - being teased, his partner's hand holding out forbidden fruit, too near, too far, just the right distance for him to retrieve it from those naughty fingers and bite at it with an eager mouth.

He wallowed in the sensation of it - the luscious juicy tang, and smiled impishly at Giorgio as the fingers left his mouth. This is where it had all started for them - one day at the market where harmless flirtatious chit-chat between two male friends had bloomed like the fresh flowers on sale between the vegetables and the cheese sellers - that moment Giorgio had fed a cherry tomato to Andrew and the art historian had blushed, the midday sun no cover for his redness, marking his neck with blotches.

Locatelli was _currently_ feeding him olives. "These are the best you will ever 'ave, Andrew - I'a promise dis," he said, and who was Graham-Dixon to argue with _that?_ Any olives fed to him in such a manner as _this_ were bound to be the best he would ever have.

And when he sat and thought about it, olives really had been central to their beginnings as a couple - not only romantically, but as an on-screen couple. They'd met initially at an olive grove in Sicily and, after several glasses of local plonk, found that their lives would go on to be _forever_ intertwined, in work and in love - such a simple, silly night of laughter and discussion, without which they would never have made Sicily Unpacked - would never have filmed their several travelogues together - would never have fallen head over heels in the process. Yes, he owed a _lot_ to olives.

However, up until recently, he would have struggled to compare Giorgio and his love to any kind of _food_ \- even if food _was_ the chef's greatest love - and Andrew would never have thought to compare him to the humble olive. Because, whilst his friend may have been firm, sweet and delightfully zingy on the outside, his heart could never have been described as a stone - he was soft and kind.

But when he tried _La Tenera Ascolana_ , fried in crispy breadcrumbs, from the street vendor's stall, he knew _exactly_ what kind of olive Giorgio was.

They were tongue-burningly _hot_. And, instead of a hard heart, their interior was filled with meat stuffing which was deep and rich, full of history and stories of the past, full of life and full of strength and power - though with that beautiful touch of vulnerability, uncertainty about whether the unconventional core of it ever had the _right_ to replace the original stone. Giorgio, sometimes tentatively but usually successfully, brought his own twist to the classic recipes they discovered. And Andrew adored the way he brought such a spark of brilliance to both the cooking of dishes and  _everything_ else they did together.

And so when the olives had been consumed, the crusty bread and antipasti lunch finally finished and over, and the pair were lying on the bed in one another's arms, preparing for a post-meal snooze - nothing could hold Andrew back from grabbing Giorgio by the legs and pulling him, playfully, towards him. And, dragging  _olive_ -coloured trousers downwards until they slid off at his bare feet, Graham-Dixon chucked them to the floor. With trousers removed and shirt pulled upwards, he revealed the Italian's _olive_ skin. He then placed a single kiss upon his exposed tummy - something which held the most delicious taste of _anything_ he had ever tried _to-date_.


End file.
